


the sky is getting heavy tonight (please don't let it rain)

by bloomings



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Awkwardness, Character Study, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, Flower shop kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Past Keonhee/Hwanwoong, Rain, Seaside, Yonghoon for like a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomings/pseuds/bloomings
Summary: When he opens the door he’s hit with cold air and then quickly with a warm feeling when his eyes meet an impish smile.“Hi,” the man in front of him says, shifting the bags in his hands to raise one in greeting, “Hwanwoong?”Hwanwoong doesn’t answer him, staring stupidly.“I’m Youngjo,” the other continues when Hwanwoong stays silent, “Geonhak said you would be expecting me.”
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	the sky is getting heavy tonight (please don't let it rain)

**Author's Note:**

> this was for the one starry christmas fic exchange hosted by [moonloverfic](https://twitter.com/moonloverfic) on twitter. 
> 
> the prompt was;
>
>> _Using this quote as inspiration; 'But he had eyes like rain and hair like waves and a soul as vast and deep as the ocean. And I guess I didnt mind drowning in him.'_
> 
> i hope this is ok ;; 

When the evening breeze picks up and the sunset tints the sky a glowing orange is when his heart hurts the most. 

With the sea air combing through his hair, the spray of the cold water splattering against his legs, he holds on tight to the inside of his sweater’s pockets, standing, shivering, as the night rolls in, the faraway cries of seagulls. 

The shops opened along the beach are empty, Hwanwoong turns his back to the ocean, eyes restless as they scan the empty sidewalks.

The sand creeping between his toes is gritty, warm from the last pitiful rays of winter sunlight. He makes his way carefully to the boardwalk, slipping on his shoes, eyes wandering until he finds a cafe.

The lights are golden, the little tables spread out. he walks up to the counter, looking for his wallet, “just a small coffee, please.” 

With the lack of business it only takes a couple of seconds, his steaming cup pushed back alongside with his change. 

It’s that time of winter, Hwanwoong thinks, as he steps outside, walking against the wind, when the sun’s stay becomes shorter and night falls heavy too early. 

When he gets home there’s a message on his phone, on the kitchen counter where he had left it, missed call notification glaring at him. His paper cup is still half full and his heart feels half empty but he presses the voice mall notification, listening to whatever has been left for him to hear.

_Hwanwoong-ah_

There’s a pause.

_It’s Keonhee. I wanted to see if you were home, before I left but you didn’t pick up...so I guess not. I...uh...I miss you already. The days are getting colder here I was wondering if it was cold over there too._

Keonhee’s laugh breaks through the static then.

_Call me back._

There’s a lot of things left unsaid. Even now Hwanwoong knows there’s silences that shouldn’t have been. With the sky splattered with stars, the foggy windows distorting the outside world Hwanwoong can’t deny the facts. Remembering the last time he saw Keonhee brings back unpleasant feelings, the most vile thoughts, mostly remorse. 

He takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out his window, the quietness of the night leaves too much room for his thoughts. 

-

The next morning feels different. The stillness of it is unnerving, Hwanwoong is careful as he walks through his house, doesn’t know what to expect. 

“I’m only here for one reason and you know it,” Geonhak says as he stirs his cup of tea.

“Good morning,” Hwanwoong mumbles, avoiding eyes, “you drove all the way back here?”

Geonhak snorts, eyes rolling, “I’m the closest to you,” he pauses.

Hwanwoong doesn’t say anything to that, instead moves towards the kitchen, finding hot water out for him.

“Keonhee called me,” Geonhak says finally, when it’s obvious Hwanwoong isn’t going to ask, “he called me, trying to act like we didn’t know why.”

Hwanwoong stays behind the counter.

“He said,” Geonhak turns to look at him, gaze a little concerned, “that you haven’t answered any of his calls. He wanted to know if you were away again.”

Hwanwoong stirs his tea, spoon clattering against the side of his cup, steam dispersing and coming back together.

“I’m tired,” Hwanwoong says, finally, “these days haven’t been good for me.”

He can see the way Geonhak’s eyes shift, face pulling into a minuscule look of uncertainty. 

There’s another silence, Hwanwoong is tired of all of them. But he can’t think of what to say when his eyes well up and his breath catches suddenly. 

Geonhak’s arms find their way around him and it’s all Hwanwoong has to keep him up. 

There’s not a lot to say, Hwanwoong’s eyes are closed and his breath is uneven but he can’t fill the silence no matter how much he hates it.

-

Geonhak pushes him back to bed and Hwanwoong falls asleep in his warmness. The winter day bleeds out in his unawareness, when he wakes up his room is dark again. His cheek is pressed to Geonhak’s sweater sleeve. He can feel the indents of the knit pattern on his cheek as he raises his head a little. He squints into the air, drowsy eyes trying hard to adjust. His mouth is dry, almost disgustingly so. His body is sore, his mind feeling foggy.

He sits up properly, Geonhak’s heavy arm falling away from him. His bed creaks as he shifts, pushing away the covers tangled with his legs.

The movements are all it takes to get Geonhak to stir, eyelashes fluttering as he tries in vain to keep them close.

“Hungry,” Hwanwoong mutters as soon as he thinks Geonhak can hear him. He gets out of bed, leaving the door ajar. The lights are all off and Hwanwoong finds himself flickering all of them on, eyes closing in discomfort.

Hwanwoong is washing the dishes he used when he hears footsteps. He places the last one back on the counter, turns around to face Geonhak.

“Want pork belly,” Hwanwoong says, Geonhak laughs, reaches for the meat Hwanwoong has already taken out of the refrigerator.

“A _please_ would be really nice,” he says as he moves around the kitchen, easy and comfortable. Hwanwoong watches him take out a pan, rinsing it before placing it on the stove.

“I love you,” Hwanwoong says breathlessly at the prospect of fried fatty meat.

Geonhak laughs again, louder and amused, taking out kitchen scissors, “keep that feeling for a bit longer,” he says, voice teetering with his laugh.

Hwanwoong doesn’t bother questioning, mouth already watering at the smell of smoking meat.

For once the silence that falls between them isn’t smothering. Hwanwoong’s mind drifts back to their conversation before falling asleep.

He’s thankful Geonhak isn’t bringing it up. Geonhak’s gentle hands had wiped away his stray tears. Hwanwoong moves to get bowls, Geonhak smiles at him, pushing meat around the skillet, making sure not to burn it.

“The rice is almost ready,” he says, going to it, where he's set up the rice cooker.

Geonhak nods, Hwanwoong feels a lot better. Everything feels easy and worn in. His mind pushes back to Keonhee but Hwanwoong shakes his head, reaches to open the rice cooker when it beeps. 

“Meat is almost ready too,” Geonhak promises, flipping over the thin pieces, showing Hwanwoong the crispy side.

He sits on the floor, flicking the television on more white noise. Geonhak sits next to him, playfully bumping his shoulder to his.

Hwanwoong makes a face of annoyance, more playful as his smile breaks through his frown.

They eat as the television shows some news. Hwanwoong turns to look at Geonhak and blinks in surprise when he sees Geonhak is already looking at him.

Hwanwoong stares right back as Geonhak finishes chewing, slow and drawn out.

“The meat is good,” Geonhak prompts, carefully, “right?”

Hwanwoong swallows his own bite and nods, smiling softly, “yeah,” he says, “I meant when I said I love you.”

“How much do you love me?” Geonhak asks, turning fully to look at him, bowl of food still in his hands.

Hwanwoong turns to mirror Geonhak, putting his own bowl of food on the table, “a lot?” he asks, unsure where this is going.

“Ok, so you love me, right?” Geonhak leans a little bit closer, “a lot.”

“Yes,” Hwanwoong answers, getting exasperated, “I already said that.”

“Ok, so then maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me out with something.”

Hwanwoong nods more out of wanting to know what has Geonhak suddenly acting so strange.

“My friend needs a place to stay,” Geonhak finally says.

Hwanwoong can’t help groaning as soon as he hears that. Geonhak quickly puts his bowl down and reaches for Hwanwoong’s hand, squeezing a tad on the painful side.

“He needs inspiration,” Geonhak rambles on, “he thought maybe the ocean would be a nice place to get it.”

“So?” Hwanwoong pulls his hand back, “there’s other places people can rent out here.”

Geonhak doesn’t answer right away but Hwanwoong understands the real reason why Geonhak would even ask.

“I don’t need anyone to babysit me,” Hwanwoong grits out, already pushing away.

Geonhak follows him without hesitation, wincing when Hwanwoong drops his bowl into the sink with a loud clanking sound.

“It’s not like that,” Geonhak’s voice is easing into something trying to soothe but it makes Hwanwoong even more irritated.

“Then explain what it’s supposed to be,” Hwanwoong challenges, turning to look at Geonhak.

Geonhak stalls, hesitates for a bit, stuttering to come up with an excuse.

“A favor,” he says simply, eyes pleading, “to a friend you love very much.”

Hwanwoong glares at him, but it’s hard for him to keep himself mad when Geonhak pulls on a cute pouting face.

“I hate you,” he says, but it sounds more yielding than anything else.

“You love me,” Geonhak quickly corrects.

“And if I find out this friend of yours is keeping tabs on me,” the threat trails off.

“He won’t” Geonhak answers, “he isn’t,” he insists.

-

Geonhak leaves the next morning. Hwanwoong whines when he feels the way he takes his warmth away. 

Geonhak pulls the covers over his body, knows it’s going to take way too much to lwake Hwanwoong up in the cold morning.

“I’m leaving,” he whispers, close to Hwanwoong’s cheek, “my friend will be here tomorrow.”

Hwanwoong scrunches his nose at that, eyes still close, he hears Geonhak laugh.

“Be nice to him,” Geonhak teases.

Hwanwoong doesn’t respond to that, instead opes one eye, Geonhak is a lot closer than he thought.

“Be safe,” he mumbles, “I’ll miss you.”

He falls asleep before he can hear Geonhak say it back.

-

With Geonhak gone, Hwanwoong feels just how tired his body is. Mentally exhausted from a day of crying, the way Keonhee’s message is still on his phone. He doesn’t have anyone to show how much better he is doing. No need to put on a show.

So he sleeps. Hwanwoong sleeps hours and hours away. He sleeps until morning goes, sleeps as clouds roll in, heavy rain picking up.

He wakes up suddenly. The stillness of it is unnerving, Hwanwoong rises carefully, sitting up on his bed. The covers are all twisted around his legs. He kicks against them, irritated. His palms rub too harshly at his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep still clinging to him. His eyes burn, eyelids heavy. The room is dim. He can hear the way the rain is pouring, hitting the ground hard. His mouth feels like is full of sand, body feeling like he’s underwater. Hwanwoong stares out the window for a second, watches the gray clouds, the whipping winds and drops back to sleep. 

Rain thumps harder as it keeps pouring down, Hwanwoong once again drifts away.

The television is still playing when he wakes up again, he can hear it from the living room. His phone flashes 4:16 pm at him. His joints are stiff, head buzzing from oversleeping. He groans, sitting up, running his hands across his face. 

Rain is still falling outside, pelting harshly. Hwanwoong’s eyes shift to the window, watching absentmindedly as drops race to the ledge, the gray skies rolling with thick clouds. The bed creaks as he shifts, reaching blindly for his phone.

“Hungry,” he mumbles to himself, getting up from his bed. He stretches, arms raised high over his head. He sighs when he hears his joints pop, yawning as he walks towards the kitchen.

He stops as soon as he walks into the living room, wincing when he realizes that he’s left the window open. Rain splatters onto the living room floor, water gathering and spreading slowly.

“Ah,” he rushes to close the window, the stormy winds hit him, running chills down his still sleep warm body.

He goes into the small bathroom closet for something to clean the mess with, coming back, he drags the mop lazily, watching as the water slowly disappears. The repetitive notion seems hypnotizing, he mops even after all the water is gone. The rain is breaking over the windowpane, sound adding to the lull.

Hwanwoong eventually stops, leans the mop against the wall and walks to the kitchen. Hwanwoong shivers at the cold clinging to him the more sleep leaves him.

He smiles when he notices Geonhak has cleaned and put everything away before leaving. He takes out his kettle, watching as the water fills it up.

Hwanwoong takes his cup of tea to the living room, turns the volume of the television down, watching as the news transitions into the weather.

_Heavy downpour and strong winds expected to continue into the evening. Not much is known about this new storm front. It seems to have developed quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. Heavy clouds and rain should be falling over the area around this time. Expect torrential rains, low temperatures and powerful winds as the night goes on._ _High tide advisory due to the heavy rain tonight. Any late night sea visits sh-_

Hwanwoong startles when he hears the doorbell, he turns to look at the door, frowning. He doesn’t move until the doorbell rings again, Hwanwoong sets his cup down, gets up slowly, wonders who would be waiting outside in such weather.

When he opens the door he’s hit with cold air and then quickly with a warm feeling when his eyes meet an impish smile.

“Hi,” the man in front of him says, shifting the bags in his hands to raise one in greeting, “Hwanwoong?”

Hwanwoong doesn’t answer him, staring stupidly.

“I’m Youngjo,” the other continues when Hwanwoong stays silent, “Geonhak said you would be expecting me.”

“Oh,” Hwanwoong closes his eyes, shakes his head, “Geonhak,” he repeats, dumbly.

“Yes,” Youngjo nods at him, smile spreading, “Youngjo,” he points to himself.

Hwanwoong flushes in embarrassment, focuses enough to realize rain is still falling and Youngjo’s back must be getting wet.

“Oh, the rain,” he says, taking a step back, “I’m so sorry, please come in.”

Youngjo steps in, bags in hand. Hwanwoong closes the door and the awkwardness takes over again. Neither of them move, just standing there. Hwanwoong realizes he has to say something, invite the other in fully.

“I -,” he stops, restarts, “ah, sorry. Take a seat...I think Geonhak left some clothes here you can wear…”

Youngjo doesn’t move and this does nothing but perplex Hwanwoong even more, “please,” he repeats, motioning to the couch.

Youngjo smiles at him, now sheepish, “I don’t want to get your furniture wet,” he says.

“Oh right,” Hwanwoong is starting to feel silly, “sorry, give me a second I’ll get you something.”

Hwanwoong turns on the lights in his room, going to his closet. He goes through his clothes, searching for any spare clothes Geonhak may have left behind during one of his many visits. He rifles through his shirts and pants. He’s forced to look all the way in the back when he fails to find anything. Finally his hands touch something not so familiar, he pulls it out and immediately regrets it. The soft material of the pajamas feels odd in his hands, even after spending so many nights holding on to it. The little Ryan characters are as cute as ever and Hwanwoong can help the smile that reaches his lips, remembering just how excited Keonhee had been when he had bought the set.

But soon the feeling is replaced with the heavy bitter feeling sinking in his gut. He knows he must have other clothes from Keonhee the other can wear. He reaches blindly and pulls out a t-shirt, thin and worn out, very clearly Keonhee sized.

“Sorry for the mismatch,” he says, handing him the pajama pants and t-shirt.

Youngjo takes the clothes, looks at the Ryan pajama bottoms, “These are Geonhakkie’s?” he asks incredulously.

“Ah, no,” Hwanwoong shakes his head, “someone else who was way too big,” he says, turning around to walk towards the kitchen, “I’ll make you something warm to drink.”

Hwanwoong guides Youngjo to his spare room, apologizing for the mess. Youngjo shakes his head, smiling, assures him it’s ok.

Hwanwoong goes back to the living room, picks up his phone. He opens the message thread with Geonhak, typing out a new message.

_your friend is here, in case he didn’t tell you_

Geonhak answers right away, 

_great! please be nice to him woongie_

Hwanwoong sits on his bed,

_you insult me_

Geonhak stops answering him and Hwanwoong lets himself flop onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the way the rain intensifies in the back, hitting loudly against the window.

He’s slept an entire day, too awake to drift back to sleep but he’s suddenly feeling like a stranger in his own house, hyper-aware of the other man moving around in the other room.

He opens up instagram, watches his feed refresh and smiles as he sees Geonhak’s new picture, two plastic cups of bubble tea. He likes the picture and keeps scrolling, stopping to look at videos from choreographers he’s followed, singers who post cute pictures of themselves. In between the almost mindless scrolling he hears a knock on his door, he knows who it is but he still hesitates to answer. 

Youngjo smiles at him as soon as he opens the door, he’s still wearing Keonhee’s mismatched clothes, and Hwanwoong doesn’t know where to look at.

“Hey,” he says, shifting nervously, “I was wondering if you were hungry?”

Hwanwoong suddenly feels like a bad host, “Oh, oh I’m so sorry. I can order something to eat, there’s take out menus in the kitchen and -”

“Whoa, wait,” Youngjo raises his hands up, trying to stop the rambling, “it’s raining really bad out,” he says, slowly, “I don’t think it would be nice to get someone to deliver food for us in this weather.”

Hwanwoong doesn’t know how to answer him and he bristles when he hears Youngjo laugh.

“If you have food in the kitchen I can make something to eat,” Youngjo explains, tone patient.

Hwanwoong know Youngjo must think he’s strange. They’ve only just met, not even a full day but Youngjo seems to have witness almost every bad part of Hwanwoong. Fumbling, scatterbrained. It’s irritating.

-

Hwanwoong picks at his egg scramble, breaking it apart in his bowl. Youngjo sits across from him, eating carefully. It’s quiet and painfully uncomfortable, Hwanwoong is weighing in the options. Would risking a cold be worth escaping this situation?

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Youngjo says quietly, “I know Geonhak probably didn’t really give you much of an option, so thank you.”

Hwanwoong doesn’t answer, lifts food halfway to his mouth.

“No problem,” he says, barely a whisper, “hope you find what you need here.”

It’s still raining by the time Hwanwoong is ready to go to bed. He bumps awkwardly with Youngjo in and out of the bathroom. He takes the time to show Youngjo everything in the bathroom and what he can and cannot use. Youngjo bows at him gratefully, closing the door with a small smile.

Hwanwoong puts his phone to charge, lays in the dark room, listens to the way the wind and rain storm outside. 

He’s not sure exactly how to feel. He knows he’s not tired, sleeping hours and hours into the new day. He knows he’s not happy, Keonhee’s laugh still ringing in his ear. But he doesn’t really know what to think about the man now in the room next to his.

-

Hwanwoong wakes up unexpectedly, not sure when or how he fell asleep. He looks out the window, sees the dark clouds still overhead, but the rain has taken a lighter fall.

He looks at his phone, has nothing to check. He sits up, tilts his head as he picks up sounds coming from the kitchen. 

He’s forced to remember that he has a guest, that Youngjo is here because of Geonhak.

He can’t think of a reason to stay in his room, gets up slowly, is greeted with the smell of the beef he had in the refrigerator, and oily noodles.

“I made food,” Youngjo says as soon as he sees Hwanwoong, “I hope it’s ok that I used what you had.”

“It’s fine,” Hwanwoong says as he watches Youngjo fix a plate of food for him, “thank you.”

It doesn’t escape him how backwards this all feels. Youngjo has been in his house for less than a day and he’s already fed him twice.

“I’ll be out today, I’ll get more food,” he says.

“Oh, ok,” Youngjo answers, “I’ll try not to touch anything.”

It’s supposed to be a joke and Hwanwoong knows that but it feels oddly pointed.

“Ok,” Hwanwoong says anyway.

-

It starts raining harder when Hwanwoong gets into his car. The shop is not far from where he lives, so he’s not particularly worried.

He parks at the back, shuts off the car. He unlocks the door, pushes open into the messy backroom. There’s vases everywhere, condensation fogging up the refrigerators lining the walls. The lights flicker on when he hits the switch.

His phone vibrates with a new notification and Hwanwoong opens the message automatically.

_be there in a couple of minutes_

_cant way to see you <3 _

Hwanwoong laughs at the last cute message, makes room on one of the tables for the new inventory.

True to his word, headlights flood through the still open back door. Hwanwoong walks to the door, leaning against the threshold, watching as Yonghoon gets out of the van.

“Delivery!” Yonghoon says a soon as they meet each other’s eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come in this storm, hyung,” Hwanwoong says, walking towards the other, going to the back of the van.

They carry the flowers back into the room, Hwanwoong staying inside to clean and sort as Yonghoon brings more bundles in. 

It’s all so familiar to Hwanwoong, such practiced notions, it’s quick work, finishing in time for Yonghoon to lean over his work, offer him one of his many wide smiles.

“With this rain when are you going to open up again, no one is coming out at all,” Yonghoon asks, genuinely curious.

“Probably tomorrow,” Hwanwoong shrugs, wiping his hands on a hand towel, “nothing else to do home.”

Yonghoon hums at that, nods, “ah, always a busy bee, Hwanwoong.”

“One of us has to do work, right?” Hwanwoong teases back, feels the lightest he has in days.

“Always so cheeky,” Yonghoon laughs, reaching forward to ruffle Hwanwoong’s hair, “it’s good to see I don’t have to worry about you.”

Hwanwoong feels the way something twists painfully in his chest but he still smiles back, rolls his eyes for good measure.

“Of course, hyung,” he says voice sing song, “I’m an adult now.”

When he gets back home he is greeted with nothing. All the lights are on but the kitchen and living room are empty. Hwanwoong drops the groceries on the kitchen counter, opens the fridge to put away the food he’s bought.

“Do you need help?” Youngjo asks, catching Hwanwoong by surprise.

“No thanks,” he says, “I’m almost done.”

Youngjo stands there for a couple of seconds before stepping back, Hwanwoong can hear him walk back to his room.

He sighs to himself, tension leaving his body, finishes putting away the food quickly. He keeps a couple of ingredients out, cuts up vegetables and leafy greens and drops them in a pot, something warm for the cold day.

He trails off to the living room as he waits for the soup to cook and simmer. The television is set on some sort of travel show. The show host is walking through a street market, pointing the camera at all kinds of food stalls. 

-

Days go on like this. 

Hwanwoong goes into the shop, dragging in rain and cold and usually no one ever comes in. He stands, cutting stems at angles, watering potted plants, changing water in vases. 

He sits in the back room, cleaning, rearranging inventory, arranging flowers in vases. He could probably go home instead of spending time under the fluorescent lights and cold room but it seems a lot more appealing to be alone in his small shop then be at home with someone he barely knows.

It must be getting worrying enough that Youngjo must have said _something_ to a _certain someone_. He gets a text notification as he’s about to close up shop. The rain has stopped, one of the few rare moments when it has. Hwanwoong remembers the morning newscaster talking about the uncharacteristic rainy season, warning again of high tides and probable flooding.

The floor is slick with the rain fall, the lights of the night lamps glinting against it. He thinks about ignoring the text but his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, unrelenting and begging for his attention. He puts the boxes in his arms down next to the rest of the trash, reaching for his pocket, unlocking his phone as soon as he sees its Geonhak.

“Hi,” he says, a bit breathless from the cleaning up he was in the middle of doing.

_Hi_ , Geonhak’s voice is tinted with what Hwanwoong recognizes as mild disappointment.

“Hyung, I-” he starts but Geonhak cuts him off, clearly set on getting his point across clearly and directly.

_I know I said Youngjo wasn’t there to keep tabs on you, and I meant that fully but Woongie, there’s a difference between having things to do and finding ways to ignore people._

He’s getting scolded and Hwanwoong’s age shines fully when he pouts. No one is there to see it but he knows Geonhak can probably tell by the way his voice drags at the end with his whining.

“ _Hyung_ ,” he drags out, standing in between the door, the cold winter air seeping into his warm body, “I have a shop to run.”

_And Yonghoon himself told me that with the rains it hasn’t been nearly as possible to warrant 12 hour shifts._

Yonghoon did always have a big mouth, Hwanwoong seethes silently.

_Hwanwoong, I’m worried, I know you haven’t been feeling the best lately, and Keonhee’s message really wasn’t what you needed to hear but it’s hard to help when you don’t let others help you._

Hwanwoong feels the hot prickling of tears at the corner of his eyes, knows that if he doesn’t press his palms and rub them away they’ll bead along his eyelashes, freeze in the winter air.

If Geonhak could see him he would drop it, babble out apologies, hold him until he stops.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice only wavering a little, “I’m trying to be better, I promise...it’s just hard.”

Geonhak’s voice is softer, low, _I know_ , he says, _just remember other people have feelings too_.

Hwanwoong walks home that night, just a bit longer than if he took his car. Geonhak speaks to him the whole walk through. They talk again about Keonhee, the sour, bitter taste of the other, the strangeness of still finding pieces of him left in his house.

When he makes it home he sees a figure on the porch. He knows it’s Youngjo before he gets too close. Rain has started to fall again like mist, sticking to his body, damping his hair. He hangs up as soon as he thinks he’s within hearing distance. He feels a lot better, like he tends to do after talking with the older boy, but his nerves are rising, remembering how Geonhak had asked him to be a bit more receptive.

“Oh, hi,” Youngjo says as soon as he can see him. He’s sitting on the edge, rain falls on him, matting his hair down.

“Hi,” Hwanwoong says, automatic. He’s halfway up the stairs, knows he just can’t muscle through.

“You should go inside,” Youngjo says, motioning at him, “you’re clothes are all wet, you’ll get sick.”

Hwanwoong looks down at himself, becomes aware at the uncomfortable sticky, heavy feeling of his clothes clinging to him.

“You too,” he says, taking the last step up the porch, towards the door, “you’ll get sick if you aren’t careful.”

-

He wakes up in the middle of the night, the air is cold and he shivers as he pushes away the covers. 

His phone reads 2:48 am. Hwanwoong gets up, mouth dry, throat itching. When he passes by the other room he notices the lights are still on, filtering to the bottom where the door doesn’t quite meet the floor.

He stops in front of it, knocks before he has time to think about it. He doesn’t really expect an answer and is even more stupidly surprised when Youngjo actually opens the door.

“Hwanwoong,” he says, voice soft, “did I wake you up?”

Hwanwoong shakes his head, makes a face of confusion, motioning at the jean jacket Youngjo has halfway on.

“Oh,” Youngjo laughs, putting his arm in the other sleeve, smiling shyly, “I was going to go down to the sea,” he pauses, “clear my thoughts.”

-

Rain falls in an uneven drizzle. Hwanwoong stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, hunches his shoulders into himself. 

The sea air fills his senses, the smell soothing, reminds Hwanwoong of the carefree summer days. 

Youngjo walks beside him, shoes hanging from his fingers, eyes set on the horizon.

Hwanwoong’s own shoes sink into the sand, until they reach the hardened part of coastline.

Waves come close to their feet, Hwanwoong takes a couple of steps back, watches as Youngjo steps closer, the cold water touches Youngjo’s feet, lapping against his legs, where he’s rolled up his jeans.

Hwanwoong stares at the waves, dark and black, breaking into tiny ripples where raindrops break through them.

“So do you come out here a lot?” Hwanwoong asks, voice soft, as if not to disturb the peace.

“Yeah,” Youngjo answers with a shrug, “just sometimes.”

Hwanwoong nods like he understands, doesn’t say anything. 

“The air helps clear my head,” Youngjo adds, turns his head to look at Hwanwoong, “sometimes hearing the same instrumentals over and over again makes it hard to think.”

Hwanwoong turns to look right back at Youngjo, eyes searching, “oh, you write music?” he asks, clearly surprised.

Youngjo laughs at that, dark eyes shining even in the rainy night, glinting like the sea waves, “yeah you can say that,” he says.

He turns back to look at the sea. Hwanwoong is presented with his profile. The steep line of his nose, the soft swell of his lips. The cold wind messes with his hair, the rain beginning to curl it.

It’s cold but Hwanwoong can feel how his cheeks stain with heat, feels the beginnings of the feeling he had felt fleetingly when he had first met the other.

The sounds of the waves crashing against the shore drown out the sound of his rapidly beating hard.

Hwanwoong finally wills himself to stop staring at the other man, forcing his eyes to meet the same horizon. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry if this wasn't what you wanted, but i hope you get something enjoyable out of this ;; even though its just one big ramble of ideas ;;
> 
> -
> 
> find me/talk to me about this fic or other fics /talk to me (if you wanna) on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/bIoomingly) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloomings)
> 
> ~~or on my main if you know it lol~~


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